e it? What difference whether it
be called his, or the Archbishop's, or whose? Let it suffice that it
was false thought, undirected by the Christ-principle, God, that had
been externalized in the wreckage which he now called his past life.

He again stood face to face with the most momentous question ever
propounded by a waiting world: the question of causation. And he knew
now that causation was wholly spiritual.

"Padre dear, you said just now that God was mind. But, if that is
true, there is only one mind, for God is everywhere."

"It must be so, _chiquita_," dreamily responded the priest.

"Then He is your mind and my mind, is it not so?"

"Yes--"

"Then, if He is my mind, there just isn't anything good that I can't
do."

Twilight does not linger in the tropics, and already the shadows that
stole down through the valley had wrapped the man and child in their
mystic folds. Hand in hand they turned homeward.

"Padre, if God is my mind, He will do my thinking for me. And all I
have to do is to keep the door open and let His thoughts come in."

Her sweet voice lingered on the still night air. There was a pensive
gladness in the man's heart as he tightly held her little hand and led
her to Rosendo's door.

CHAPTER 18

The next morning Jose read to Rosendo portions of the communication
from Wenceslas.

"Chiquinquia," commented the latter. "I remember that Padre Diego
collected much money from our people for Masses to be said at that
shrine."

"But where is it, Rosendo?" asked Jose.

"You do not know the story?" queried Rosendo in surprise. "Why, there
is not a shrine in the whole of Colombia that works so many cures as
this one. Your grandfather, Don Ignacio, knew the place. And it was
from him that my--that is, I learned the legend when I was only a boy.
It is said that a poor, sick young girl in the little Indian village
of Chiquinquia, north of Bogota, stood praying in her shabby little
cottage before an old, torn picture of the blessed Virgin." He stopped
and crossed himself devoutly. Then he resumed:

"_Bueno_, while the girl prayed, the picture suddenly rose up in the
air; the torn places all closed; the faded colors came again as fresh
as ever; and the girl was cured of her affliction. The people of the
village immediately built a shrine, over which they hung the picture;
and ever since then the most wonderful miracles have been performed by
it there."

Jose laughed. "You don't believe